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<h1><a href="https://archiveofourown.org/works/29388459">Sink to the Bottom</a> by <a class='authorlink' href='https://archiveofourown.org/users/Cranberrytaboo/pseuds/Cranberrytaboo'>Cranberrytaboo</a></h1>

<table class="full">

<tr><td><b>Category:</b></td><td>BioShock 1 &amp; 2 (Video Games)</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Genre:</b></td><td>But god damn if Johhny doesn't want some of that, Desire, First Meetings, M/M, No sex but its EXTREMELY horny, Non-Canon Relationship, POV Second Person, There's barely even any contact</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Language:</b></td><td>English</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Status:</b></td><td>Completed</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Published:</b></td><td>2021-02-13</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Updated:</b></td><td>2021-02-13</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Packaged:</b></td><td>2021-05-18 03:01:31</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Rating:</b></td><td>Mature</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Warnings:</b></td><td>No Archive Warnings Apply</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Chapters:</b></td><td>1</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Words:</b></td><td>822</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Publisher:</b></td><td>archiveofourown.org</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Story URL:</b></td><td>https://archiveofourown.org/works/29388459</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Author URL:</b></td><td>https://archiveofourown.org/users/Cranberrytaboo/pseuds/Cranberrytaboo</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Summary:</b></td><td><div class="userstuff">
              <p>A drabble considering a scenario where Johnny met Sinclair at a party before everything went to shit.</p>
            </div></td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Relationships:</b></td><td>Johnny Topside/Augustus Sinclair</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Comments:</b></td><td>6</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Kudos:</b></td><td>23</td></tr>

</table>

<a name="section0001"><h2>Sink to the Bottom</h2></a>
<div class="story"><div class="fff_chapter_notes fff_head_notes"><b>Author's Note:</b><blockquote class="userstuff">
      <p>Apologies in advance if this is OOC or anything. It's been like... at least a decade since I played Bioshock LMFAO.</p>
    </blockquote></div><div class="userstuff module">
    
    <p></p><div>
  <p>You found Eden fathoms beneath the waves, in the distance looking for all the world like a glittering snowglobe, towers and spires lit up and shining gold. Encased and precious, the sparkling jewel called to you like a beacon, and you found yourself restlessly drawn in, singeing your wings on the flickering lights. </p>
</div><div>
  <p> </p>
</div><div>
  <p>This heavenly garden lifted its tendrils and pulled you close to the hand-cultivated earth, and at once you were exalted, adored. To the dwellers of the deep, you were an angel, a being who deigned to descend, to walk among their ranks, and they may as well have worshipped you for how they looked upon you. </p>
</div><div>
  <p> </p>
</div><div>
  <p>For a world that the sun could not reach, everything was scintillating, almost blindingly bright, and these gorgeous denizens fawned over you, falling over themselves to ask that you partake in their revelling, that they may get the chance to witness you, or even experience your touch. To them, you were Adonis, a sculpted statue, an ideal. They would have given anything to have your hands upon them. </p>
</div><div>
  <p> </p>
</div><div>
  <p>And perhaps some of them, you entertained. Such adoration was hard for even a man of the cloth to resist, and you never considered yourself holy. So indeed, you imbibed yourself on the rich indulgences the shining city offered. Nothing was ever in short supply. </p>
</div><div>
  <p> </p>
</div><div>
  <p>What had made that night stand out, that man? Another night of hedonistic pleasure, where the liquor flowed and stemmed glasses cut like diamonds caught the lights of chandeliers and threw prismatic rainbows in all directions. From your position at the bar, you had a good vantage point from which to observe the world around you, and you watched as people moved about, socialized. You were pulled from a light daze as he entered your field of vision. </p>
</div><div>
  <p> </p>
</div><div>
  <p>You'd heard of him before, seen his face on posters, billboards. A household name, as you'd gathered. Sinclair. You'd wondered if he would be as eye-catching in reality as he was in the advertisements, but you knew it was over when you laid eyes on him. With a cool, heavy-lidded gaze and a sure stride, you could tell he was cut from a different cloth. There was something special, and you could feel it. </p>
</div><div>
  <p> </p>
</div><div>
  <p>You shamelessly listened to his order, swallowing back a rush at the sound of his honeyed voice. The particular drawl, you could almost place it, and it was intoxicating. You could listen to him speak all day. You wanted that so badly that it burned in your chest sharper than the whiskey half-drained from your glass. </p>
</div><div>
  <p> </p>
</div><div>
  <p>You continued to eavesdrop as he connected to the people around him, waiting and watching as his cup slowly emptied. Once it was down to dregs, you swept in, sliding a replacement against his hand and introducing yourself with what you prayed was your most charming grin. </p>
</div><div>
  <p> </p>
</div><div>
  <p>Hazel eyes cast up and down behind low lashes, sizing you up, before an easy smile crept across his face. You felt your own face flush with exhilaration as he turned to face you more openly. You wondered if he could see the hunger in your gaze as you looked him over. </p>
</div><div>
  <p> </p>
</div><div>
  <p>But could what you felt really be called hunger? No, it would be more accurate to say you were ravenous as your eyes traced the sloping curves of his waist. Every part of him looked soft, pliable, smooth, and you <em>needed</em> to run your hands along his sides, needed to bring him closer. Your throat felt suddenly dry, and you knew the thirst could only be slaked were you to partake of the man before you idly nursing his glass. </p>
</div><div>
  <p> </p>
</div><div>
  <p>There was a general murmur around you. The throngs desperate to reach you were audible in their disappointment that they had not been chosen. Critical stares peered over the rims of cocktails, judgemental, unable to see what <em>he</em> had that <em>they </em>did not, but if he felt them, he didn't call attention to it. Instead, he lightly rested a hand on your knee, not noticing or not minding the immediate jolt of electricity his touch sent coursing through your body. His head tilted lazily to the side, and his smile turned apologetic as he explained he couldn't stay longer, he had to go, but he looked forward to seeing you at the next function.</p>
</div><div>
  <p> </p>
</div><div>
  <p>His choice of words was painfully ironic, as you were barely able to function for the heady fog of desire clouding your judgement. You watched unmoving as this most intoxicating of poisons rose from his stool and sauntered away, but not before flashing you one last flirtatious smile from over his shoulder. </p>
</div><div>
  <p> </p>
</div><div>
  <p>You were a man set out to tame the raging sea, you'd weathered storms of ink-black tides and lashing downpours since you were old enough to set foot on a vessel. You were nothing if not dogged, and by god, you would make that man your own.</p>
</div>
  </div><div class="fff_chapter_notes fff_foot_notes"><b>Author's Note:</b><blockquote class="userstuff"><p>This was a really fun little fic to write! Sometimes I have a lot of fun with flowery writing. Who doesn't love a garden every now and again?</p></blockquote></div></div>
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